Cheeni Bahut Zyaada Hai
by ChocolateIsMyDrug
Summary: From Om Shanti Om. OK and Sandy are watching one of his movies when he is hit by a terrifying realization.


**A/N:** More Om/Sandy fluff. Hope you enjoy!

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**Cheeni Bahut Zyaada Hai**

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Though it was not exactly his idea of a romantic evening (though clearly, it was hers), Om had agreed to sit and watch his first movie _Kaho Na Pyaar Hi Toh Hai _with Sandy, albeit rather reluctantly.

So yes, though snuggling up with Sandy on his couch was a definite plus, staring at his own face and the face of that bimbo Anisha Patil (they of course got along very cordially on the sets and had a great work relationship) was not so great.

Finally after three and a half hours of badly scripted, illogical boredom, Om understood. He understood why a majority of his fan population was female. He understood how those countless obliging boyfriends out there must curse him every minute of every day. Or at least every minute they were forced to watch his movies with their smitten girlfriends. He understood completely.

The state of mental disturbance this realization placed him in was enough penance in his view; however, it seemed that the collective spirit of all those bored boyfriends out there had not yet satisfied its thirst for revenge – it could only rest in peace when the tranquility of Om Kapoor was forever destroyed.

The irony of it was that Sandy, love of his life, Sandy was the one to deliver the final, cruel blow. And that too, completely unintentionally. As the credits rolled up the screen, (Om fighting the urge to start cheering) she sighed in a dreamy voice, her head resting on his chest, 'Oh, I love that movie so much...' Her voice sounded nostalgic. 'I remember seeing it in theatres for my ninth birthday.'

At that point the buzzing in Om's ears had gotten too loud to decipher the rest of what she said. _I remember seeing it in theatres for my ninth birthday... my ninth birthday... birthday... birthday..._

If life was a Hindi movie, there would have been a few choice thunderclaps by now. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl and all he could hear was his heartbeat, loud in his ears. Sandy had been nine when she had first seen KNPHTH. He had been twenty when it had released. Which meant...

'I'm _old!_' He woke up from his horror long enough to notice that Sandy was looking up at him as if he were mental. He turned red. 'Did I say that out loud?'

She nodded, suddenly looking like she was suppressing a giggle with some difficulty. Just as suddenly, Om noticed that she was snuggled up against him, and his arms were around her. He hastily untangled himself and moved to the far end of the couch.

'Oh my God,' he squeaked, his voice panicky. 'You're half my age! I'm – I'm old enough to be your father! You're – you're young enough to be my daughter! I'm a pedophile! This is incest!' At this point he was hyperventilating too hard to continue.

Sandy stared. And then laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. Finally, wiping tears out of her eyes, she gasped, 'Om, I know you're not the best at maths, but half of thirty is _not_ nineteen. And you would have had to have fathered me at eleven to be old enough to be my father.'

He glared at her, not a little annoyed at her making light of his terrible realization. 'Okay, so maybe I exaggerated a little. So I'm not old enough to be your father; I could quite conceivably be an uncle!'

Her eyes twinkled. 'Uncle Om. It has a certain ring to it, doesn't it?' And with that, she snuggled up to him once more (which was a little difficult when he was sitting so stiffly, but whatever).

Om squeaked. 'Pedophilia? Incest?'

She punched his shoulder. 'Om, I'm legally an adult. And it's not like you're some old man either. And how can it be incest when we're not even related, stupid?'

The spirit of the bored boyfriends was satisfied. Om Kapoor, OK, the Big O, had squeaked. Had called himself a pedophile. And best of all, had sat through all 200 excruciating minutes of _Kaho Na Pyaar Hi Toh Hai._

There was a brief silence as he pondered this. 'It's not twisted and sick, then?' Om asked hopefully.

Sandy sighed, and then patiently asked, 'Do you think Salman and Katrina are twisted and sick?' Then, seeing his thoughtful expression and long silence, winced and added hastily, 'Okay, don't answer that. The point is, that while the eleven years between nine and twenty might be a lot, the eleven years between nineteen and thirty aren't so much.'

Om sighed in relief. She had a point. Or rather, she had many points, all of them in his favour. Which was good. He finally relaxed and returned his arms to their favourite place – around her. 'Sandy, I love you, you know that? You really put things into perspective.'

Sandy grinned. 'I am never watching one of your movies with you again.'

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**A/N: **I used to hate age difference between couples. But after reading plenty of Jane Austen books where the smallest age difference between a couple was about eight years, I've become a little more reconciled to the idea.

Please do review! MIND IT!! (MIND IT will never get old. So there)


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